The following morning after the meeting at the borders, the warrior hadn’t heard nor seen much of their newest addition. Rather than worry, she believed it was due to the fatigue of travel, or perhaps the gradual acclimation to a land that was strange and new. But as the sun reached its peak and still she had not seen the pale face of their latest, she assumed an investigation to see if all was well.
She was not without an offering in approaching the den, a small vole caught just as it made to bury in the forest. Her steps were neither a march or purpose nor creep, simply a careful progression through the wilds well known until she spied the entrance and the female still therein.
“Afternoon,” she uttered quietly, setting the vole down at her paws and kept her head dipped in greeting. “Are you rested?” The warrior inquired in calm composure finding neither displeasure or bother in the new female’s late rise. She had faith that eventually she would adapt to the early mornings of the packlife. |